Hello, Mister
by snapslikethis
Summary: Me and my housemate just spent twenty minutes trying to take the lid off of a blender and had to resort to taking it to our next door neighbor, who we have never met or spoken to before. He opened in it about six seconds.


An extremely disheveled, disgruntled Mary MacDonald stumbled from her bedroom to find her ex-best-mate perched crossed-legged on the wobbly table in their kitchen, a small blender tucked between her legs.

"The _fuck_ are you doing, Evans?"

"I'm trying," Lily grunted through clenched teeth, "to get this damned lid off."

Mary, unimpressed with the considerable effort Lily was putting into this task, glared at her. "And why in the fuck are you using the blender?"

"To make a smoothie," Lily answered casually.

"And when in the fuck did we get a blender?" A legitimate question. "And why?" Another.

"Discount shop. It was to two pounds, and to make smoothies. Obviously."

Mary nodded as if the sight of Lily making a smoothie wasn't weird as fuck. "Why in the fuck did the inclination to make a smoothie strike you?"

"Hangover cure," Lily said cheerily, flashing a toothy grin at Mary. After dabbing at the light sheen of sweat on her forehead with her sleeve, she resumed her efforts. "Why in the fuck are you saying fuck so much?"

"Because you," Mary said, pointing an accusatory finger at Lily, "banging that wooden spoon so damn loudly on that plastic lid woke me up at—" she squinted at the clock, "six-thirty-fucking-seven on Friday morning."

"Oi, right, sorry."

"I don't have class today."

"I know, which is why you went out to that party last night, which is why I blended you a hangover cure."

Mary stepped forward and eyed the putrid brown concoction in the blender with distrust. "What's in that?"

"Best not to ask."

"Does it work?"

"The spoon? Clearly not." Lily chucked the spoon behind her, where it joined an array of tools on the kitchen floor. "Neither does the screwdriver, slicking it with cooking oil, or that gripper thing my dad got us when we moved in."

"Not the tools, Evans," Mary said, a bit exasperated, "the hangover cure."

Lily smirked at her. "I _dunno_ , Mare. Breda swears by it, but you're the test subject. I've made a few modifications. We won't know we get this lid off and you can try it."

Mary snorted, not the least bit offended (or surprised) by Lily's frankness. She often found herself the guinea pig in Lily's experiments, which usually worked. Lily, always an opportunist, waited until a time when she knew Mary—who had been out drinking, and who had brunch with her future sister-in-law and mother in four short hours—would be too desperate to turn her down. All of this, of course, passed between them in a glance.

"I really want to hate you."

"But you don't."

Mary sighed, reaching toward the table. "Let me have at it, then."

Lily looked at her skeptically and hugged the blender to her body.

"What?"

"I'm not hungover," Lily said slowly, " _and_ I'm stronger than you, and I can't get it off."

"Well banging on it isn't going to work, Evans, and I'm left handed."

"What's that to do with—"

"We won't know until you let me try."

"Fine. Don't break her."

"Her?"

"Sophia."

Mary laughed at her mate's weird habit of naming inanimate objects and took the blender in hand, determined to get the lid off. She wanted her headache to be gone, and she wanted gloating rights.

Fifteen minutes later, a corkscrew, two ruined butter knives, and spatula joined the tools on the floor, Mary nearly lost a fingernail, and Lily had only _just_ prevented her from setting it on fire by snatching the matches away. They now both sat cross-legged on the table, the blender sandwiched between them.

Lily's elbows rested on her knees, her chin in both hands. "You know, you've got top marks this term."

"I do know."

"And I'm a double major."

"Also aware."

"A blender shouldn't be smarter than us, Mary."

"And yet…" Lily exhaled deeply, blowing air upward so her fringe fluttered. They resumed their staring contest with the unblinking appliance; silence stretched until Mary was hit with a sudden fit of inspiration.

"Oi! What about Potter?"

Lily startled, reminding Mary of the time she'd licked that battery on a dare. "What about him?"

Mary grinned wickedly. "I'll bet his big, strong boy arms could open this."

"We can't _talk_ to him, Mary," chastised Lily, scandalized. "He moved in four days ago. Have to give him room to breathe."

"His nice arse room to breathe, you mean?"

Lily did not dignify this with a response.

"How badly do you want this open, Evans?"

"I'm not the one in need of a hangover cure," Lily reasoned, but Mary, knowing how Lily loved her experiments, merely stared at her.

"Oi, fine. Damn you, MacDonald, but we've got to wait until seven."

"What happens at seven?"

"He goes jogging."

"Lily Evans," Mary laughed, "you stalker."

"I wasn't stalking him, Mare, I happened to go to class early on Tuesday."

"Is that why you've been leaving so early? I thought you had a term project due!"

Lily shrugged.

"You sneak. He really must have a nice arse."

Lily's blush answered for her, and something else occurred to Mary. "Oi, is that why you've started making your hair more presentable?"

"Fuck you."

"You know what I mean."

"No, I don't." But she did—she'd used a flat iron two days in a row, for fuck's sake—and they both knew it.

"Right," Mary interjected, before Lily could press the point further, "Let's get to it. Seven o'clock is in two minutes."

She slunk off the table, scooping the blender in her arms, but Lily snatched it away. "You aren't going out there like that, are you?"

"I am." Mary knew she was a wreck, but took the three steps to their front door and unlocked it.

"But—"

"I don't give a flying fuck what Potter thinks of me, Evans. I wouldn't miss your first meeting with him for shit."

Lily stuck her tongue out at Mary, who politely ignored the thorough inspection she gave her reflection in the mirror before joining Mary at the door. "I really want to hate you sometimes."

"But you can't," Mary said sweetly, patting Lily on the shoulder. "Get on with it." She pushed Lily through the now open door, causing her to collide directly into an obscenely tall bloke with horrific hair.

 _Potter_.

Mary watched from the door frame, amused, as her roommate and neighbor tripped over themselves, apologizing profusely and then telling the other not to worry about it. While Lily had gone on and on about his bum, she'd neglected to mention how nice the rest of him was. Definitely more Lily's type than Mary's.

Lily seemed to be Potter's type as well, if the glances he was giving her were any indication.

"You two done having your moment?" Mary asked.

They both turned to look at her, Lily glaring, James smiling sheepishly. He stuck out his hand to Mary. "I'm James."

"Potter, right? I'm Mary MacDonald, and this is Lily."

"How…how do you know my name?"

"Mailbox," Lily said in a high pitched voice Mary didn't recognize, "our mailboxes are right by each other."

His brow furrowed. "Then you're Evans?"

"Yes. Lily Evans."

"Sorry about your nose."

"S'alright."

He smiled a dazzling smile at her before noticing the appliance tucked in her arms. "D'you always, um, carry a blender around?"

"Oi, no. _No_." A magnificent blush blossomed on Lily's cheeks. "My friend Mary made this…smoothie, she called it," Mary elbowed her back, but Lily carried on, "and she couldn't get the lid off, see, she even tried oil, if you can believe it, and I can't open it because I sprained my wrist saving my cat from jumping out the window last week. And we were going to see if our other neighbor could open it, but you're here, so would you mind?"

James looked at her for a long moment, clearly amused, clearly unsure what to make of such an obviously bullshit story. Finally, he reached for the blender, examined it for half a second, and twisted it off in one fluid motion.

"How'd you do that?" she and Lily asked in unison, genuinely impressed.

James winked at them. "Marauder secrets, girls."

"No, really," asked Lily, and Mary snorted at whatever the fuck a marauder was.

"Turn it a tiny bit to the left, and push down as you turn."

"Son of a bitch," Lily said.

James looked startled. "Oh, not _you_ ," said Lily quickly. "You are our hero. Well, Mary's hero. Isn't that right, Mary?"

"Sure, Lily. I'm going to take my blender from you, James Potter, and Lily is going to come inside with me, unless you two would like a moment?"

That shook them out of it. James recovered quickly, throwing both of them another grin and a salute.

"I'm behind schedule for my jog, ladies, but it was nice to be your hero. If you've any other appliance emergencies, I'm just down there."

Lily nodded, and Mary pulled her through the door before she could say anything else embarrassing.

"Sprained your wrist, Lily? Your hero?"

Lily slumped against the door, eyes closed. "Not ready to talk about it yet, Mare. Drink up. Plug your nose."

Mary stared dubiously at the drink, which gurgled at her.

"Your brunch is in three and a half hours," Lily reminded her.

 _Fuck_. Mary took a long swig, nearly spitting it out more than once. "That is foul as shit."

"Breda said you've got to give it five minutes, and if you don't chuck it up, you'll be fine in ten."

"You are a terrible friend." Mary crossed the flat to set the blender down on the table. She leaned over the kitchen sink.

"You haven't disowned me yet." Lily glanced at the clock. "And you'll thank me in eight minutes."

"If I throw up," Mary said weekly, "I'm going to murder you."

"You would've done anyway, as hungover as you are, and you cannot murder me because rent."

Mary closed her eyes and shut her mouth.

"Three minutes."

To distract herself, she circled back around to the topic Lily had just forbidden. "Saving the cat?"

Lily sat at the table, burying her face in her hands. "I completely panicked."

"You're completely smitten."

Lily didn't deny it, but she looked so thoroughly miserable that Mary almost felt sorry for her. Almost. "I think he was just as ruffled as you were."

"He thinks we are idiots."

"We are idiots. And he called himself a Marauder, so I'm not sure how smooth he can be. I think I just witnessed a meet cute."

"You and your damned romance movies, Mare."

"No, Lil, it's not just me. Everyone knows what a meet cute is."

"There was nothing cute about him prying the lid off my blender and nearly choking on the fumes."

"He _was_ cute though, and your bullshit panicked lies were cute. It counts."

"He'll probably fall desperately in love with _you_ ," Lily moaned.

"I'll make sure to never comb my hair again, especially if his services should be required again."

"Spoken like a true friend." Lily stared out the window, before saying thoughtfully. "Maybe we can sabotage the toaster."

"You are a dangerous woman, Lily Evans."

"I know. It has been eleven minutes. How d'you feel?"

Mary surveyed herself. No throbbing head. No stomach ache. "Better. Amazing, actually. What's _in_ that."

"You don't want to know. Now go sleep for two more hours."

"What are you going to do?"

"Take the cat for a walk. Obviously."

"Is that what that harness is for?"

Lily grinned.

"You're mad."

Lily bumped Mary from the sink so she could dump the hangover cure. "No, I'm smitten, and James Potter will be returning home from his jog in seven minutes, and if I can wrestle the cat into the harness, I can meet him on the stair."

"Ha. You _are_ a stalker."

"Go to sleep, MacDonald."

"Cheers."


End file.
